Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102970 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Okay, let’s try another way. “What do you know about construction?”
He rolls his eyes. “It can’t be that hard.”
Just then the door opens, and Grave enters the conference room. His blue eyes are red. His dark hair stands up in every direction and his clothes are wrinkled. He looks like he just woke up on the side of the street, which could be a very likely possibility.
Bones stands from his chair and crosses his arms over his chest as his little brother falls into a black leather chair. Lifting his chin, he glares down at him. “Where in the fuck have you been?” Bones demands.
“Don’t start.” He throws back his can of Red Bull like it’s a shot. “You should be glad I even made an appearance.”
Bones slaps his hands down on the table. “This is serious!” he shouts. “We were recently notified that George wasn’t going to pay us, and now his partner is dead. Looks pretty fucking suspicious to me.”
“Hey, I told you that we shouldn’t have loaned George that money,” Grave argues.
Cross lets out a whistle, and I shake my head.
Bones drops his head and runs his hand through his spiked hair. I’m just waiting for him to drag his brother across this conference table. It wouldn’t be the first time. The only difference between Bones and Grave is that Bones is sober enough to actually do some damage at the moment. “He came to us and needed the money. We loaned it. That’s it. Now that it’s time for him to pay up, he wants to back out on his word, and we don’t fucking tolerate that.” Bones is saying all of this through gritted teeth.
I gotta say he’s got more restraint than usual.
“Are we sure the money was for George?” I ask.
Three sets of eyes land on mine.
“Who would it have been for?” Cross asks with a rise of his brow.
“Nick,” Bones answers, knowing what I’m thinking. He falls into his seat.
I sit up straighter. “He’s come to us before, and we helped him out.”
“He also paid us back,” Cross says. “Sooner than we had agreed on.”
Four years ago
“What can we do for you, Nick?” I ask as he enters the conference room. He had called up Bones an hour ago and said he needed to speak to us immediately.
I don’t have a problem with the man, but his daughter, on the other hand …
“I need a favor,” he announces, straightening his tie nervously.
“What is it?” Bones asks, standing over by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The black curtains pulled tight to block out the sun. Bones prefers darkness in every aspect of his life.
“I need a million dollars,” he announces.
The room falls silent. My eyes go to Bones, and he’s running his hand down his freshly shaven face. Grave pops a bubble with his gum, and Cross is flipping his Zippo.
“Done.” Bones nods. “I’ll have it for you in three hours.”
Mr. York’s green eyes widen for a brief second, and then he makes sure to look at each of us when he speaks. “Don’t you want to know why?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“No,” I answer.
“The why doesn’t matter to us. What is important is that you pay it back,” Bones explains.
Nick nods. “Of course. I …” He clears his throat. “Just tell me when.” He decides against what he was about to say.
“Three months,” I say.
He stands from the chair and buttons up his twenty-thousand-dollar suit jacket. “I won’t even need that long.”
We never did find out why he wanted it or what he did in order to pay us back.
“It seems fishy,” I agree. “But at least something good is going to come from Nick’s death.”
“Which is?” Cross asks.
I smile, looking over at him. “I made a phone call and was informed that George is back in town for his business partner’s funeral.”
“Meaning?” Grave asks, throwing back more of his energy drink.
“Meaning, we’re going to collect our money,” I answer as Bones glares at him.
EMILEE
I haven’t slept in days. As soon as George called me, I threw some of my tubs that were packed with my clothes into my car and headed straight for Las Vegas. A twenty-four-hour drive took me thirty-five. I drove as fast as I could. I never stayed at a hotel, but I did pull over for a few hours of sleep here and there. I survived on energy drinks and fast food. They were cremating my father per his wishes, and it gave me some time to get back home. I wanted to fly to get here faster, but I needed my car here. I knew once I arrived, I wouldn’t be going back for a while. If ever.
Slamming my car into park, I enter my father’s house and run up the winding staircase, two at a time. Once I reach the second floor, I run down the hall to the master suite, then I shove the door open without even knocking. My mother lies in the king-size bed with her head resting on the upholstered white headboard and the red silk sheets pulled up to her neck. Her nurse stands to her right, helping her sip from a Styrofoam cup.